


Dancing through Life

by shipskicksandgiggles



Series: Jaime's Parkner week 20biteen [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: M/M, MJ is a Good Bro, Peter is still Spider-Man, Secret jobs, Secrets, Shuri Is a Good Bro, Stripper AU, Supportive Friendship, beginning of relationship, stripper! Harley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-07-31 16:15:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20117923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipskicksandgiggles/pseuds/shipskicksandgiggles
Summary: “The guy was all over the stage, lip syncing to Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats,” simultaneously turning on and dazzling his audience.”How to do birthday milestones, spider style





	Dancing through Life

**Author's Note:**

> day 5 is here and lemme tell you, this one sucked to write. I don’t wanna talk about it. 
> 
> prompt: birthdays // secret confessions

The fact that MJ had been the one to plan his birthday party should have probably rung a whole bunch of warning bells in Peter’s brain. Sure, she cares but since when does she do  _ this _ ?

‘This’ being dragging Shuri and Peter out to a strip club for his 21 st  birthday. Honestly what the fuck was going on with his life? Ned and Harley opted out of going, citing a date and work respectively, so it was just Peter and the girls at a queer strip club. 

“Why do we have to go to a  _ strip club _ for my birthday?” he complained. “Why can’t we just to a normal bar, or like raid a liquor store like normal people do?”

Shuri looked at him looked at him like he’d sprouted three heads. “We wanted this to be  _ fun _ , Parker. Normal people do that by getting drunk, but your Spider ass can’t get drunk; therefore,” she motioned to the neon sign, “alcohol for us and hot guys for you.” She started to walk towards the door, but stopped at the last second. “You’re wearing your hearing aids right?” she asked, referring to the specially modified hearing aids he had to help dull his heightened hearing. He nodded. “And you still have your smell receptors repressed right?” She seemed satisfied when he nodded again. 

After Tony learned that Peter couldn’t stand to be anywhere within 20 feet of him because of the coffee smell, as well as the kitchen and most restaurants due to the food, he had Bruce develop a medication that could tone down how overpowering that sense was. He could generally ignore the uptick in taste, but they were still working to develop a medication that could handle that too, if need be.

MJ dug in her bag and pulled out a wad of $1 bills. “And for the record, we’re doing this  _ correctly _ .” She distributed them, giving significantly more to Peter than she gave herself and Shuri. She pushed them towards the door. 

In a last ditch effort to stall, Peter asked why the other guys didn’t come. “Well, Ned’s straight and on a date so he definitely wasn’t coming, and Harley had to work.” Shuri hip checked him when she mentioned Harley. “You miss your boy toy?”

“Harley and I aren’t even that close,” Peter retorted. “And he’s certainly not my ‘boy toy.’ I don’t even know where he works!”

“Oh we know, Peter. We know,” they echoed each other, which somehow made their tone all the creepier. MJ grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him inside.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded before he was overtaken by noise. 

And by God was there noise. All around, people of all shapes, sizes, and genders whirled around the room. There was a stage set up on one end, where a butch woman was in the middle of a surprisingly good SexyBack routine. A gaggle of people were pressed up against the rails, holding out money for her to take. More people were sitting back up at a bar, either waiting for the next performance or refilling a drink. Peter headed that direction, waving MJ and Shuri off to do their thing. 

The EmCee walked on after the woman had finished and announced the next act, someone with the stage name Bumpkin Angel. Peter snorted into the mixed drink he’d gotten, and hissed in pain when the alcohol burned his nose. The name was absolutely ridiculous, but based on the number of people who moved towards the stage, they were popular. He let himself be moved with the crowd and ended up fairly close to the stage. 

A man stepped out onto the platform, and Peter realized why the people loved him so much. His face was obscured by a mask, but his body was strong and lean, not overly tall, and he moved with the grace of a cat. His perfect abs were visible underneath the cropped flannel he had on. And this  _ thighs _ . Booty shorts didn’t do much to cover his legs and Peter was grateful for that. His thighs were thick and toned, and Peter honest to God wanted to lick them. The heels he was wearing only made it better. He made a mental note to write a thank you note to whoever invented stilettos. 

Then he started dancing and holy  _ fuck _ . The guy was all over the stage, lip syncing to Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats,” simultaneously turning on and dazzling his audience. How he managed to make a baseball bat sexy, Peter had absolutely no clue, but he was into it, and he had no regrets for how much money he gave the guy. His finishing pose was  _ gorgeous _ too: one leg bend at the knee with the bat over his shoulder. He even winked at one of the men in the front row somewhere to the left of Peter. Even his eyes were pretty, and Peter found himself intrigued by the mystery dancer. 

Shuri came to find him moments later and dragged him back to a hallway he hadn’t noticed before. She refused to tell him what it was or why he was there, but she ran back and found a woman. They spoke in hushed tones so as he couldn’t hear, and with a nod, the woman disappeared into a room. 

“I still don’t know why I’m back here,” he commented lighty when she returned to his side. “And why isn’t MJ with us?” He resisted the urge to go and find her. 

“MJ is out there, babysitting our drinks to make sure we don’t die or some shit. America is seriously fucked up,” she said, ignoring his first question. 

He opened his mouth to push, but before he could the woman came back out and told him to follow her. When Shuri didn’t follow, he looked back at her quizzically.

“Have fun!” was all she said as a ways of goodbye. 

Yeah, that totally wasn’t weird.

The woman unlocked a door and took him into a room. Inside the room was a plush chair, as well as a small table with a radio on it. The decoration was tasteful though. Made it seem like it wasn’t off of a hallway in the back of a strip club. She turned and addressed him directly. “Please follow all the rules he lays out when he gets here. You don’t want a lawsuit on your hands. In the meantime, sit and make yourself comfortable.”

Okay, what? Who’s ‘he’ exactly? Rules? Why the fuck was he here?

Before he could ask any of the questions flashing through his mind, she walked out, shutting the door behind her and leaving him alone. With nothing else to do, he sat down. The way the chair was placed, the door was barely visible in his periphery, which did nothing to calm him down. His Spidey-Sense wasn’t warning him about imminent danger, so he decided that was a plus. 

The door opened and a guy walked in. Not just any guy, it was the dancer Peter had been watching before Shuri dragged him away. Huh. Wild.

His voice was deep. Mixed with an accent Peter couldn’t quite identify further than ‘not New York’, it sounded like a low purr. The sound rolled over him, and he shivered. “I have a few basic rules,” he was saying. “First, I don’t like being touched, so don’t. Second, I don’t normally do individual dances, therefore I’m not taking requests. Third, you can be as vocal as you want as long as it isn’t derogatory or downright insulting. You good with that?”

Peter nodded. Why did his voice sound so familiar? Probably just a generic voice type or something, he guessed. That was a thing right? 

“Fine. Ready darlin’?” the guy asked.

Somewhere during his spiel, Peter realized what was happening. Shuri got him a lapdance from the hottest guy he’d ever seen. Go figure. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and nodded again. What was he gonna do? Turn down a lapdance from a guy that looked like he’s been sculpted by God? Abso-fucking-lutley not.

Music erupted from the radio, this time a slower song. Not country, Peter was happy to note. He walked around the chair, dragging his hand across the back of it. Up close, Peter could appreciate the detail of the mask. The rhinestones were small and reflected the dim lighting of the room beautifully. Feathers lined the outer edge, complementing the ‘Angel’ part of his name. This dance was much more personal, if much dirtier. Slow, sensual rolls of his hips matched the rhythm of the song beat for beat. 

One move made him spin to face Peter, throwing his arms across the back of his neck. They made eye contact, and Peter let out a small gasp. 

Blue eyes aren’t uncommon, but the fact is, there was only one person who had those eyes.

“Harley?”

The dancer froze, his hips flush with Peter’s. Everything seemed to skid to a halt, song and dance forgotten. A sigh. “Was really hoping you wouldn’t recognize me.” He took off the mask, revealing disheveled hair and a face red with embarrassment. 

“So when you said you had to work…” Peter trailed off. 

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Yeah. This is work.”

“I- but-  _ why _ ?” he settled on asking.

“Pays the bills. New York ain’t like Rose Hill. One job doesn’t cover everything,” Harley said. “Turns out I have a natural talent for this shit, and they hired me. I live fairly comfortably now, since I still have a roommate.”

Peter considered this new information. He knew what it was like to have to work more than one job. What it was like to have to keep one of them a secret from everyone he knew. “Who else knows?”

“MJ and Shuri apparently. Don’t know when that happened, but I guess y’all had to find out sometime,” he huffed. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.” At some point he had adjusted so he was still sitting on Peter, but they were no longer touching at the waist. His head dropped onto Peter’s shoulder in an effort to hide his face. 

Instinctively, Peter reached up to cradle to the back of Harley’s head, running his fingers through his blonde curls. “You don’t have to hide anymore,” he said. “I understand why you wanted to, but there’s no shame in sex work as long as you’re consenting.”

He felt Harley hum against him, not fully believing his words. “We all have secrets, honey.” 

This time Harley snorted. “We do!” Peter insisted. “I have one that I used to be scared to tell anyone, but once I did, everyone I told supported me after the initial shock wore off.” 

“And what could  _ you _ have to share that could shock someone, Mr. Parker?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again. “I don’t want to tell you in front of a bunch of cameras.”

“How did you- you know what, nope not gonna go there.” Harley looked up and debated his options. “Curiosity is winning. Hold on.” He got up and brought out a tablet from a drawer in the table and tapped a few buttons. “Okay, I looped the cameras so they won’t see this. What’s your big secret?”

Peter slipped out his hearing aids and put them in the case he had in his pocket, grateful for the soundproofing done in the room. “First of all, I don’t technically need these,” he said as he set them on the table next to the tablet. “I use them to dampen my hearing, because if I don’t, I get overwhelmed very easily.” At Harley’s confused look, he continued. “I have a medication I take to dampen my sense of smell too. And I’m working with a team to help develop ones that also include touch and taste, but for now those are manageable. I used to need glasses before, but now I don’t.”

“Why-”

“Since we’re sharing, you should know I’m Spider-Man. That’s my secret second job.”

Harley’s jaw dropped. After a long pause, he managed a strangled, “oh.”

“Yeah.”

“... Is that how you knew there were cameras? You could sense them?”

“Well yes. That and any strip club worth its shit protects their employees,” Peter said as if it were obvious.

He dropped back onto Peter’s lap with a giggle. “This is probably the weirdest birthday for you, right? Sat in the backroom of a strip club finding out the insane secrets of your friend’s life?”

“Nah. You should have been there the year Mr. Stark crashed a party at my aunt’s apartment in the Iron Man suit.” He wrapped his arms around Harley’s waist

“ _ No way _ .”

“Oh yeah. I think the neighbor cat sitting on the fire escape had a stroke when he landed next to her.” Both of them dissolved into laughter, the image of the cat being what it was. Harley collapsed into Peter’s chest, letting himself be cuddled by the smaller boy. 

“So, are we okay?” Harley asked.

“Yeah, we’re okay.”

The boys detangled themselves and got up. “Call me when you get home from work,” Peter told him. “Or shoot me a text and I’ll swing by and pick you up.” He winked, startling another laugh out of him.

“Will do,” Harley said. “We’ll need to talk about this more later anyway.”

Peter stood up on his tip toes and kissed the taller boy on the forehead. “Promise me,” he whispered as he came back down.

“I promise,” Harley smiled softly and returned the gesture.

As they rested their heads together, Peter decided this wasn’t the worst birthday he’d ever had. 

**Author's Note:**

> a little extra thing! the part about his eyes was inspired by my best friends younger sibling who tells me I have really weird eyes. idk but it’s fun
> 
> find me on tumblr at [parallelparkner](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/parallelparkner/)


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